“And what is that?” Milly persisted. Petalia had consistently refused to speak of their plans after the ship.

“Niko did well enough setting up a business in her retirement, something that would offer her a living and something to keep her occupied. Perhaps I’ll do something like that. Start a business.”

“What sort of business? What are you good at?”

Petalia wobbled their head side to side in a noncommittal gesture. “I used to be good at any number of things. The Free Traders were teaching me to handle accounting.” At Milly’s face, they gave a small laugh. “I can tell that is not something that appeals to you, but different stars for different ships! I like numbers. They are always the same. Predictable and patterned. If the world were made of numbers instead of atoms, it would be a better place.”

“Some argue that it is, but that we cannot comprehend its numbers because they are so small and so large at the same time,” Milly said.

Petalia made a face. “That is one of those meaningless sayings of mystics and charlatans.”

“A mystic helped us get here and get you out,” Milly said. “I like Lassite about as much as the next person, but I have to credit him for that.”

“A broken door opens, even if it cannot close,” Pet said. “But regardless of whether the mystics are right, I will go and do something that is the very antithesis of what they do: accounting.”

“By all accounts, Florians are mystics,” Milly said.

Petalia froze. Then they raised their face to Milly and said, “I am the last of my race. What I am is all that Florians are.”

They stalked out of the room. Milly stared after them in dismay.

Uncharacteristically, Skidoo made no physical overtures. The Florian tasted odd to her, bitter and sweet all at once, but not in a pleasant way. Wherever they went in the ship, that unpleasant tang seemed to follow. Instead, the Tlellan focused on Talon, holding him during his daily bouts of grief.

Atlanta had no idea what to say to the Florian; she wanted so desperately to know what their history was with Captain Niko that she became tongue-tied whenever conversation seemed imminent.

She raised the point when she and Dabry were in the area that had become the Thing’s “kitchen” although Niko said it was an abomination to call it that while Dabry simply called it “less than optimal.”

While the two of them were there, there were actually three people participating in the conversation. They were still getting used to the idea of living inside another being. It shouldn’t have seemed like much of a stretch; most ships had some form of AI, after all, and most of those were quite convincing in their personalities.